Dream As If You'll Live Forever
by msllamalover
Summary: A family bound by ideas beyond convention and love beyond years. The life challenge, a chapter for the life of each Scamander.
1. Lysander

_Disclaimer: Not mine, of course!  
__A/N: I'm writing four of these, one for each of the Scamander family. This is the first. I enjoyed writing this because I've never written him before! I hope you like it. Reviews rock my socks!_

_Birth_

'Luna? Are you okay? Is it time?' Rolf asks, confused and nervous and more excited than he ever remembers being, all at once.

'It hurts, but I'll be okay soon.' A slow, bright Luna smile starts as she replies. She moves to sit up straight again, wisps of hair falling from her bun. 'Before we go, are there Nargles in that bush?'

'No, Luna, I checked a few moments ago.' Rolf bites his lip (a habit he never quite managed to shake) and an unstoppable grin spreads across his face. He summons her bag and pulls his dreamy, beautiful wife behind him. He feels like he is walking on air.

What feels like hours later, Rolf is holding one of his sons in his arms and he can't believe they are his, his and Luna's. Lorcan, crying softly, is being whispered to quietly by his mother. Lysander is sleeping quietly in his father's arms.

The twins both look like their mother, but Lysander, Rolf thinks, has more of his nose than Lorcan. He's sure of that.

_World_

The world is a fantastical place, right from the start. If he isn't fishing for plimpies in his Granddads pond, he's playing with the Weasley children. They're older than him, most of them, but it doesn't matter to any of them. Lucy Weasley is nearly a year older than him and Lorcan, but they will be in the same year when they finally go to Hogwarts.

The world is a kind place. He knows of war and of death. But he thinks that war is fought to make the world better, and that death is a way of taking someone to a better world. Why shouldn't he believe that? He is just a child after all.

His world isn't shattered, but altered, when he runs his fingers along the memorial at Hogwarts. There are so many names. Too many names. Some are only a few years older than him. And he knows that there can't be anything in the world to warrant this.

He asks his Aunt Ginny about it. She tells him that as long as he is happy, and other people are living in peace, it was worth it. But there is something sad in her eyes that he never quite forgets.

_Family_

Lysander loves his parents, and his brother. Half of his childhood is spent chasing around elusive creatures that only they seem to believe in. He never once doubts their existence though, never. There is no prouder day in his youth than when his mother's book is in his hands, the dedication reading, _For my sons, who always believed and never doubted._

His brother confides in him, one day when they are sixteen years old, that until he came to Hogwarts, he didn't believe. But he wanted to, he told him, he really, really did. Lysander doesn't know what changed, or happened to make him believe. All he knows is that this is a different bigger than he imagined ever existed between them.

That evening, Lysander decides that he doesn't want to be part of a two anymore. He isn't just a Scamander twin, Lysander-and-Lorcan, Lorcan-and-Lysander. He loves being a part of that, but he wants to be himself too. So he lets his hair grow long, and wears it in a small, blonde ponytail. Lorcan still has shorter hair, and they aren't the same anymore. He feels sadder than he expected to about it.

_Friend_

When Lysander is ten, he asks why his parents love creatures so much, but they don't have any pets. They have an old owl, but he bites and he doesn't like people. So his dad buys him a Pygmy Puff.

He calls him Ignatius. He's purple, but Lorcan swears that he saw him turn orange when no one else was looking. He watches him with an eagle eye after that, because he'd love to see an orange one.

He knows a lot of nice people who he's friends with, he even has his brother, who is his best friend. But he can't talk to them all like he can talk to his Pygmy Puff. Iggy is the first friend he can really talk to, and he doesn't seem to mind when he makes some _real_ friends (as his brother calls it, though Iggy has always been a real friend to him) not long after.

_School_

'Such an inquisitive mind, I see, but such courage! You are not a Ravenclaw, like your mother, young Scamander, nor are you a Gryffindor. You will do well in HUFFLEPUFF!'

The hat shouts out the last word, and Lysander is amazed. He is with Frankie Longbottom, who was just sorted into Hufflepuff. Lorcan is sorted into Gryffindor, and he is a little disappointed. And then, last in line, Lucy is sorted into Gryffindor, too, and he is disappointed again. But the disappointment only lasts seconds, before he is cheering once more.

They are still four. The twins, Frank and Lucy. It will take more than a school to break them of that (though he still cheers for Hufflepuff the loudest when they are against each other in Quidditch, even if Lucy is playing).

_Grief_

Lysander was always taught never to regret anything, and to choose very careful what to get upset about. His mum didn't often get sad, not even when their grandfather, her father, died. She cried a lot for a day, her blue eyes red. After that she didn't cry again, just look sad sometimes. She told him that she'd see him again and that she couldn't be too upset.

Lysander bites his lip and he doesn't cry anymore either.

He doesn't like to cry. He likes being emotional, as he seems very often to be. Every emotion under the sun, but he doesn't cry.

Nothing is forever and everything comes to an end. It is the things we fight for that will save us in the end, this is his theory from that day on.

Right up until the day when he is fourteen at Hogwarts. His necklace, the butter beer-cork one his mum gave to him (Lorcan has one too, but he doesn't wear it and it isn't the same as his), is destroyed, broken beyond compare.

He can't stop the few tears that leak onto his cheeks.

_Romance_

'Just say it!' Lysander tells himself over and over again. He doesn't understand why it's so hard to tell someone on little thing. It should be easy. Three words. That's all. His mum would blame Wrackspurts, but it isn't. He's just a coward.

He works up the courage to do it, to tell her, time after time. The watches her as she sits opposite him, moving the black pieces. This is the one thing he's better than her at, chess. She's good at _everything_.

Then he sees her. Short crop of pixie-like dark auburn hair. Wide, dark eyes framed with lime rimmed glasses. Small, lithe figure, flitting about ever so sweetly. She's perfect, like a lovely china doll. Not a fairy, fairies are bitter creatures, and she isn't. She's stubborn as hell, intelligent beyond belief, feisty and excitable, but not bitter, never bitter. And he suddenly can't breathe anymore, let alone tell her how much he loves her.

She looks at him and there is something different in her eyes. He wonders if possibly she might be wanting to tell him the same thing.

So one day, after weeks have passed and he can't hold it in any longer, he kisses her. It's so unlike him. She's surprised at him at first. It takes her a second to kiss him back, but she does and he doesn't think he's ever been happier.

She pulls his hair out of it's small ponytail and he kisses her nose. This love, he thinks. And he kisses her again, because she is Lucy Weasley and he is Lysander Scamander, and what else can he do?

_Hatred_

There is no hatred in Lysander, none. He had tried to find some, when he thought that that was what people wanted. It didn't last very long. He couldn't lie about his feelings, hide himself.

He hasn't ever really received it from another person, either. He knows people sometimes used to laugh at him behind his back. He also knows that Lorcan used to stop those people. But he doesn't think that he's ever been _hated_.

He hasn't ever really hated other people, either. He came close, when they doubted him and his mother, and their beliefs. All those feelings dissipated when he finally, _finally_, discovers a Crumple-horned Snorkack. It is not too long after his mother has passed away, and he wishes she could see it. But the looks on their faces as he proves them all wrong, is worth ever single murmur of hatred that he has ever been subjected to.

_Death_

Lysander receives the news that his brother has died at exactly three minutes past three. He wasn't very old, fifty-seven. No age for a wizard, no age at all. He had been researching the now extremely endangered Erumpent in Africa, when he had got a little too close to a male, and his horn.

It isn't the first death Lysander is affected by. There was his grandfather, who died when Lysander was twenty, but there is nothing he has ever felt that is equal to losing his twin. It's like losing a piece of himself.

They were close, even when people couldn't see it. This death shakes him to the very core. Losing Lorcan means that he isn't one of two anymore. Solo, performing alone instead of singing a happy duet with his brother. He has Lucy, and she is his whole heart, but she isn't a piece of _him_like Lorcan was.

It is precisely at the moment that Lysander begins refers to Lorcan in past tense that he realises how much death is a part of life.

_Life_

Life is a precious thing, the most amazing, unappreciated thing in the world. He doesn't really understand it, not until he is twenty seven.

He loved his life but he didn't understand the wonderful, preciousness of it. Not as he holds his first novel in his hands, Lucy kissing his cheek in delight. Not as his father passes away. Not as he gets married to the woman he loves more than anything else.

Not until his daughter (little Louise Luna) takes her first breath, the colour spreading through her tiny body, does he truly grasp the astonishing joy of life.


	2. Lorcan

_Disclaimer: Not mine, of course!  
__A/N: Okay, this one is slightly more angst (because you know me) and I wanted to show the sides of life that aren't fluffy and don't always work out as we want. So that's why this is how it is. I hope you like it, and reviews are great!_

_Birth_

Luna Lovegood discovers many things, friendship, love, family.

Luna Scamander discovers many other things, Nargles, Wrackspurts, nameless other creatures.

But all of the things she discovers, the joy of holding her children in her arms is the greatest of all of them. Lysander is snuggled into his father's arms, his already grey eyes fixed on man's face. He makes no sound, just looks at him with an intensity that somehow tell him what sort of person his son is going to be.

Lorcan, however, is screaming. Mouth open, pink, toothless gums on show. Luna simply holds him closer like she can't even hear him. 'My baby, little Lorcan.'

She kisses his head and smiles. Lorcan will cause ripples in what they all think that they know.

_School_

'Courage, young Lorcan, is sometimes nothing more than the will to carry on when it seems like there is nothing to carry on for. You might not see it, but I do. For this, amongst other reasons, you will do well in GRYFFINDOR!'

He is pleased with his new house, even though he isn't with Frankie. Lysander doesn't join him either, but it doesn't matter. They'll always be best friends, the four of them. No school is going to break them. He can see it in his twin's face for just a split second how disappointed he is, but it is gone as soon as it came. He throws his arms around Lucy as she is accepted into the same house as him.

For the first time, this feels like the first day of the rest of his life.

_Friend_

Lucy and Frankie are best friends in their childhood, and everyone seems to expect that Lorcan and Lysander are best friends too. And they are. But it is no fun being best friends with your brother _all_ the time.

So Lysander gets Iggy, a Pygmy Puff. Lorcan never saw the joy of a Pygmy Puff. Silly, fluffy creature that didn't really do very much. But Lysander loves him and talks to him about things Lorcan doesn't care about.

His mother tells him that she didn't really have friends when she was a child, not even a brother. So his parents buy him a journal (not a diary, he tells them, girls have diaries) and instead of a fluffy creature, he chooses himself as his best friend.

_World_

His world stretches to the far corners of the earth. He has spent time in almost every imaginable place before he goes to Hogwarts. His parents always ask if they want to go and live with Grandfather Xeno or Nana and Gramp Scamander, but they always refuse.

The excitement and the adventure is enough to keep them ready and anticipating every new journey.

The world is a place full of wonderfulness and joy and fun, for years, that is all he sees. As he grows just a little older, he sees the danger and worry, but he doesn't really appreciate it yet.

He is just a child. The world is big and new, and excitement awaits.

_Family_

'Granddad Xeno?'

'Yes, little one?' The old man smiles down, absent minded face beaming.

'Why don't I have another Grandma?'

Lorcan's eyes are wide and shining and Xeno can't lie to him. He wants to, but he just can't. Lies shouldn't be told to children, because they are worse than the truth. Xeno believes this in almost every case.

'Because she had an accident, my love, and she had to leave us. Don't you worry, she loves you. And you'll see her when you get a lot older, I hope.'

He gives him a hug. Lorcan doesn't understand, but he feels soothed by the Grandma who loves him, even though she can't see him and can't know him. Lorcan wonders why she still loves him, _how_ she still loves him. It isn't enough for him at that age that she does. He simply wants to know more about _everything_, and this is no exception.

_Hatred_

Lorcan and Lysander are identical. Same blonde waves, same misty grey eyes, same tall, slenderness. Lysander has, somehow, a little more of their father in his looks, though he can never pick out what it is. He never resents them being identical. He never wants it to change.

He always thought Lysander felt the same way. When they are sixteen, his twin grows his hair and wears it longer, in a ponytail. Lorcan's is still shorter. He gets the feeling that Lysander doesn't want him to grow his too.

There is a feeling of betrayal inside him that he can't stop. Lysander is his family, his best friend.

He can't help but hate him, just the tiniest bit because he just can't make himself understand.

_Romance_

'I'm sorry, can I help you?' Lorcan taps the shoulder of the tall, slender woman standing with her back turned to him.

'Lorcan Scamander?' She turns around, smiling. 'I think you're expecting me. I'm Agatha Merryweather.'

Lorcan looks surprised, before he remembers. 'The photographer,' he holds his hand out to her. She rearranges her bag, camera and wand so she has a hand free to shake his.

Aggie isn't like anyone woman he has ever met, in all his forty-one years. She is a few years younger than him, with long, graceful limbs and long dark hair and violet eyes. Her camera is always around her neck and she seems to take pictures of anything and everything. She is like his mother. She feels with everything she has. When she is sad, she is the saddest person he's ever seen. When she is happy, she is overjoyed. When she hates, well, he's never seen her hate anyone or anything. When she loves, she loves with her whole heart.

Lorcan is jealous. His emotions seem to be half there, half expressed, half felt. But there is nothing half-hearted about the love he feels for Aggie. He seems to be living for her, and it scares him. He simply isn't used to the overwhelming burning, somewhere inside, like a fire that he can't reach to put out.

Though somehow, he doesn't think he wants to.

_Grief_

'Lorcan, I'm pregnant.' Aggie had begun their final conversation. They aren't married, and haven't told anyone back home about their relationship. It has only been a matter of months. Nine, to be exact and ironic.

The conversation had ended with kisses and excited smiles. The future seems to be set out before them, all thanks to their unborn baby. They have decided not to get married, but to go home and set up a life together there which won't involve moving and exploring at least three times a year.

They never get around to setting up the life they planned in those few hours.

Aggie goes out for a walk, camera in hand, beaming face. Lorcan decides not go, having Quibbler articles to send, letters to write and feelings to come to terms with.

She doesn't come back. There was an accident, she had fallen in the forests around their current abode. She and the baby were lost. Lorcan doesn't want to know the details. He has never been a man to take great interest in the things that hurt him the most. All he can think is that there will be no ring on his Aggie's finger and no children for his family to welcome delightedly to the world.

Knowing Aggie has made him open and more himself than he has ever managed on his own. When she and their baby (a boy, Lorcan fancied) die, it is like all emotion has run from him, like his blood is cold in his veins. Losing her, he loses himself too.

_Death_

When he is fifty-seven years old, he is in the middle of a research project into Erumpents in Africa. They are endangered, severely, and he can't stand the thought that his nieces might grow up not having the opportunity to see the amazing creatures.

It is mating season, and he knows it isn't a good idea. He has been studying them for almost a year, and this is the last thing he needs to see. He knows what usually happens, and he knows there is a chance this will happen when he is close by.

He just doesn't expect to be so close by when it happens. He can see it unfolding before his very eyes, but he has no way of getting far enough away to save himself.

He accepts his fate, and sits peacefully, eyes closed, head titled towards the sky as he waits.

He could try to run, but he doesn't. He can't bring himself to spend his last living minutes running away. The very knowledge that he will be with Aggie again soon is all he can seem to think about. Lorcan smiles.

_Life_

Lysander sits on his father's knee, the two of them discussing something Lorcan isn't interested in. 'You can do anything you want to do, Lysander!'

'I want to be a writer, Daddy! And I want to get married, like you and Mummy!' His twin bounces excitedly on his father's lap.

Lorcan turns from where he is sitting on the floor. 'Ew! Why?!'

His father suppresses a smile. 'Why not, Lorcan?'

'Because girls are yucky! I'm not ever going to get married!'

His dad doesn't look like he believes it, and neither does his brother, but he is quite stubborn about it. They continue to wait for him to change his mind, to want to settle down. The day doesn't come. Not to their knowledge.

The words of his nine year old self come back to haunt him in the last fifteen years of his life. Every letter he receives from Lysander tells him about the wonderful things his four children are doing. His love shines through every single time. They are always signed with, _Lucy sends her love, too_ and Lorcan wants to cry when he finishes every one.

Lorcan's life is spent yearning, accepting and discovering. It doesn't stop, right until the end, when he discovers the one thing he thinks he has secretly known since he was old enough to know anything:

Life shouldn't be kept to oneself, it should be shared, given and appreciated, every moment of it.

In the end, Lorcan half wonders if he did that as well as he thought he had.


	3. Rolf

_Disclaimer: Not mine, of course!  
__A/N: I think this one has been my favourite so far, it was lovely to write. I think Rolf seems quite charming, though there are some sections I'm not sure about. If I've made mistakes or anything, please tell me. Reviews are brilliant, if you have the time!_

_World_

'You old fool, in the name of Merlin, stop printing those ridiculous articles. I've been in this business all my life, and I can tell you for fact that those ludicrous creatures do not exist. I'd be willing to place my career on it.'

Rolf's father writes to Xenophilius Lovegood, editor of the Quibbler. He gives the letter to Rolf to post, and watches him as he runs up the stairs to where their owl roosts.

He receives no reply to his letter, and no stopping of the articles. Thus, he writes another letter, and tells Rolf to send that one too, more urgently this time.

His father writes dozens of letters, all unanswered and seemingly ignored. Rolf tells his father not to get angry, that it doesn't matter.

Rolf can't help but feel a little bad, because the truth is, he never sends the letters. Not one. Just because his father doesn't believe, doesn't mean that he doesn't. He is in silent, secret awe of this Xenophilius Lovegood, with his unabashed beliefs. The world is a big place, and Rolf wants to believe that those things are out there.

_Death_

'Can you see them?' Luna asks, her back to him as she standing a little in front of it.

'See what?' He replies, confusing. All he see is a field, a little darker than the other, but a field nonetheless. He wonders if she is seeing something small, so that he has to look for it. Her gaze seems to be fixed somewhere in the middle, on nothing in particular.

'Have you ever seen anyone die?'

Rolf nods and shakes his head, at the same time. 'Creatures, yes. But a person, not directly. Someone I managed to save, and someone else when I was with my father. I - I - I closed my eyes.'

Luna turns her head for a minute and her gaze fixes on him. 'Maybe you just don't want to see them.'

'I hope I never do, Luna. I'm so sorry you can.' Luna nods in agreement of his statement.

She tells him of their beauty and familiarity. Rolf can't see any beauty in death, and he's glad, and sad that Luna can. Luna doesn't seem to mind that she can see them, she seems at peace with them. Rolf can't help but see how different they truly are, though he loves her all the more for it.

_Romance_

Rolf looks over at Luna, sitting in a rocking chair identical to his. She still looks like the slender wisp of the woman he fell in love with countless years ago, but her hair is silver and her face is lined. Her eyes are shut and she appears to not be moving.

Some people might be worried that she was no longer breathing, she is so still. But Rolf doesn't move to check. He knows her better than he knows himself, he knows what to look for. The vague quirk of her lip as she smiles at something known only to her, the tilt of her head so slight that she might not have done it.

He never sits with his eyes shut. Never. How could he, when such an interesting and wonderful being is sitting so close, doing nothing and yet everything all at once. She is exquisite.

Some love seems to fade over time, like the flower wilts. Some love turns to necessity or habit. Some love, that hazy inclination that may well never have truly been there in the first place, seems to dry up completely, like the water of a well no longer used.

The love Rolf has for Luna is like a candle, still blazing as strongly and brightly as the first day he met her, every second they spent together, every second apart, every second she spent haunting his mind with her lovely, strange ways, simply fan the fire. Rolf hopes it doesn't goes out. He knows it never will.

_Friends_

'This is Harry and Ginny, and James.

'This is Ron and Hermione.

'This is Neville and Hannah, and Alice.'

He can't help but be overwhelmed by the amount of people Luna knows, all of whom she calls friends, and all of whom treat her with love and friendship in return. She has already told him that there were times when she didn't have friends. Rolf told her the same in reply. Except, unlike Luna, he never really found a place, a group of friends where he felt completely accepted.

At the end of the evening, Rolf shakes their hands enthusiastically, and receive hugs from several people who were strangers before now. His enthusiasm isn't because of the stories the papers still tell frequently of the courageousness of Harry, Hermione and Ron, and Neville. Ginny and Hannah are rarely mentioned as heroes, though he knows through Luna that they are. No, he shakes their hands and hugs them affectionately because they have accepted him already, they already feel like friends to him.

_Hate_

There is no fantasy in Rolf's life. There is reality, a reality that he loves and that constantly surprises him. Sometimes he doesn't like it. But he never hates it.

There are some people who he hears saying how much they want to change their lives, to move house, to get a new job, to have more money.

Rolf just pities those people. How awful it must be to hate ones life so much to actually wish to change it. To want to improve is one thing, to hate is another, and it isn't something he can truly comprehend. Hate isn't a word which often crosses his mind, and for that he is so very thankful.

_School_

Luna gives each of the boys a cork necklace and a Dirigible Plum. Rolf doesn't have anything to give them. He doesn't want them to leave. He can't remember life without them, and all he can seem to think is that it's going to be so quiet. He was looking forward to having more time to be with Luna, but now he can't believe they're going.

Rolf never went to school, as his father decided he'd rather have him travelling with him and teach him himself. Somehow, this just makes it even harder for Rolf to be enthusiastic. He is, though, and he isn't pretending. Actually, he's rather jealous. This experience is going to be so wonderful for his sons. He can't pretend that he isn't jealous of this school, too. It'll see his boys grow in a way that he'll miss.

He hugs Lysander for a long time, and his is the same sort of hug as his mother's. He hugs Lorcan, though he breaks away sooner, far more excited and not wanting to pretend to be afraid to leave. Lorcan is the one who leaps off the train minutes before it leaves to give his father an extra long hug. Rolf's heart leaps as he whispers 'Don't worry, I'll write every day.'

_Grief_

When Lorcan dies, Lysander's emotions take over, just as they always have in the past. His grief is immense. Luna moves like a ghost, treading but leaving no mark, crying silently and frequently, refusing to be comforted. Luna's grief is intense but she files it away, for she seems to know that she will see him again soon.

Rolf's grief is harsh and painful, like nothing he has ever felt before. It is his son, the boy he watched grow, watched go to school, achieve and explore. He loved his sons more than he ever thought he could love anyone. To lose a son is inconceivable. His friends apologise, their faces sad and wet with tears, but they don't understand the loss and they seem to know it. A heaviness is cast over them all, a stubborn heaviness which takes far too long to shift.

He cries quietly and doesn't eat for days. He has to be taken home immediately after the funeral by Neville.

A parent shouldn't have to bury their children, and it is a blow that Rolf never quite manages to recover from.

_Birth_

A baby with sparse, red hair is tucked into his wife's arms. The baby is their goddaughter. Luna's and his. He can't understand why they want him to be her godparent too, but as Harry pointed out, they'd known each other for nearly four years and they'd trust him and Luna until the very end. Rolf had been flattered and delighted, and had given Harry a warm hug.

'Lily Luna.' She whispers over and over again, as if she can't believe the tiny miracle she is holding. Rolf can't believe it, either. There is a small bulge hiding under Luna's dress, and seeing this baby, this lovely, tiny baby makes him want their child now. His impatience is a sin, but he falls to it every time.

Rolf moves closer and grins, wondering if there is anything more amazing than this, this miracle. Lily Luna is loved already, by her parents, her brothers, aunts, uncles, cousins, godparents.

Around seven months later, when the twins (_twins!)_, Lorcan and Lysander are born , Rolf _knows_ that no moment, no wonder in his life will ever equal this one.

_Life_

'The trick to life, my little Dragons, is to enjoy it.'

His sons are wide eyed little children, the same silvery-grey eyes are their mother's, and the short blonde curls. They don't appreciate the wisdom of his years. They are far too young, though he knew that when he told them.

He repeats it to them over the years, and to his goddaughter and grandchildren. It becomes a small family joke for them, as they finish it before he can now. There is never any doubting the truth of it, however.

Rolf has enjoyed almost every moment of his, and he thinks that Luna probably has too. He wants his children to love their lives too. He wants to think that he can help them achieve that. Theirs is a family of laughter when their children are young, and Lysander's is all jokes and brightness. Lorcan seems happy, too. Lysander's happiness, he never doubts. Lorcan goes through times, of great, obvious happiness, and of times when he has to push himself to even pretend. Rolf can never tell whether or not it is genuine, but he hopes it is, and he has no reason to think otherwise.

Life has been kind, so kind to him, and he doesn't want to think that those he loves haven't enjoyed it as much as he has.

_Family_

The cover of Luna's book reads, _More Wonderful, Magical Creatures, by Luna Scamander._ On the first page of the book, underneath where the title and Luna's name are repeated, a line reads, _Researched and edited with help of Rolf Scamander._ They wanted his name with Luna's on the front, but he declined. It is her book, not his, and he doesn't want the fame which might come with it.

But he and Luna spent years discovering each new creature, watching it's mating habits, researching it's sleeping and eating patterns, tracking it's behaviour. They spent weeks meticulously planning and writing and editing the book.

Every word of it is true.

The creatures other people doubted, when his Luna had no doubt of them being real, existed.

Rolf sends home a copy of the book to his father, beaming as their owl disappears over the horizon. His father may have doubted, but Rolf never stopped believing. And when he looks at the life and the family he has built whilst on the quest of discovery, Merlin, is he glad of that.


End file.
